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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26271832">now i lay me down to sleep</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/futuresoon/pseuds/futuresoon'>futuresoon</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Persona 5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Deadline Bad End AU, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 05:41:25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,411</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26271832</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/futuresoon/pseuds/futuresoon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Goro Akechi walks across the creaking, dusty floor, disturbing an errant spider and disrupting a late sunbeam. For a moment he just looks at the figure on the bed, and then he exhales, walks to the unused chair in the corner. Brushes off the dust, moves it in front of the bed, facing Akira. Sits down. Watches.</p><p>(Akira sleeps. Akechi visits.)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>45</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>489</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>now i lay me down to sleep</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The attic is almost as still as a snapshot. The only movement to be found is the changing of the sky outside the window, the dust motes floating down on errant sunbeams, and the occasional scuttle of spiders leaving ever-expanding homes on the shelves and ceiling--and the soft, deep breathing of the person who lies still in the bed.</p><p>The only sound, too, is that breathing. Sunlight and dust and spiders come silently. Besides the spiders, the only sign of life is the boy resting under the covers, almost as quiet and unmoving as the grave.</p><p>Akira Kurusu sleeps, and sleeps, and if he has any thoughts about the state of his room, he does not say.</p><p>Sleeps, and sleeps, and sleeps, and the attic may as well be a grave after all--</p><p>Until the creak of the stair.</p><p>Someone walks up the dusty wooden stairs for the first time in--who knows. Time has little meaning here.</p><p>Goro Akechi walks across the creaking, dusty floor, disturbing an errant spider and disrupting a late sunbeam. For a moment he just looks at the figure on the bed, and then he exhales, walks to the unused chair in the corner. Brushes off the dust, moves it in front of the bed, facing Akira. Sits down. Watches.</p><p>After a while, he says, “Of course you’d be here. I don’t know why this place kept slipping my mind.” He pauses. “Well, no, I do. The same reason you’re here to begin with. Maruki must have thought I would be <i>happier</i> if I never thought about you again, never remembered you were missing in the first place. Joke’s on him, he left me enough of myself that I know if I’m happy then <i>something</i> must be wrong.”</p><p>Akechi looks around the room. “I’m surprised you can even breathe in this mess,” he says. “Sakura-san doesn’t seem to remember he even has an attic, no wonder it’s like this. I wonder if I should try to clean it a little. Not that I was ever particularly good at that.”</p><p>He looks back at Akira. Akira still hasn’t moved.</p><p>Akechi exhales. “Is this what you wanted?” he asks softly. “To sleep forever while everyone else lives happily? I don’t know how to contact Maruki, so perhaps I’ll never know if this was his idea or yours. But I don’t think you would’ve <i>asked</i> for this, at least.”</p><p>He sits back in his chair, folds his hands in his lap. “On my way here, I had this ridiculous little fantasy that you were trapped and if I could save you then we could start over again, do Maruki’s Palace properly and save the world the way we were supposed to,” he says. “Then I realized if you ever needed saving, it would never be me who did it. Your whole parcel of friends would be here to prove that all your work bonding with them was the key to your survival, and they would rescue the trapped prince and defeat the evil king like the loyal companions they are. I hardly have a place in that.”</p><p>He looks at the ground. “I tried too many times to take you out of the world,” he says quietly. “I could never be the one to bring you back to it.”</p><p>For a while, there is silence once more. Another set of breathing, but that’s all.</p><p>“Are you dreaming?” Akechi says, returning his gaze to Akira. “Surely if Maruki wanted you to be happy he wouldn’t trap you in nothingness. An endless, dreamless sleep might as well be death. Demented as he may be, I doubt he thought <i>that</i> was the best solution.</p><p>“So you must be dreaming. What about? A world where you stole the Treasure in time and restored the world to all its messy glory?” A corner of his mouth quirks up, though he doesn’t look especially happy. “I assume I’d be there too, if you dreamed about that. I don’t think you knew the truth of the matter. If you had, you would’ve said something. Some dramatic speech about how I should value my life or whatever. It wouldn’t have changed anything, but you would’ve said it anyway.”</p><p>He pauses. “I suppose none of that would make sense if you don’t know. Forgive me. I’m dead, you see. I never confirmed it, but I don’t remember anything between being shot on the ship and seeing you on Christmas Eve. Between that and the fact that others were resurrected, it seems very likely I’m one of them. <i>You</i> must have been the one who wished for it, I hardly think anyone else would.”</p><p>The sun continues to slowly dip below the horizon.</p><p>“Maruki must’ve thought he could use me as a bargaining chip,” Akechi says. “I’d like to say it wouldn’t have worked, even you could never be so sentimental as to choose one person over the entire world, but…” He shrugs. “Here you are, dreaming away instead of facing the world you didn’t do enough to save. Clearly I thought too much of you. Some leader you turned out to be in the end.”</p><p>A mote of dust drifts across Akira’s face.</p><p>“…perhaps that’s unfair,” Akechi says eventually. “You did <i>try,</i> at least. Maruki’s lost his hold on my memories; I remember what you were like when you ended the infiltration. We were all exhausted, but you looked like you were seconds from collapse. You must’ve pushed yourself past the brink. And you didn’t say anything after that, not even when we met the next day. The last words I ever heard you say were ‘We’ve done all we can. I’m sorry.’ Were those the last words you said at all?”</p><p>Akechi stares out the window, at the slow, honey-thick withdrawing of another perfect sunset.</p><p>“I don’t think it’s good for me to stay here long,” he says quietly. “Not when there’s nothing I can do. Just watching you like this is…well, I should get going.”</p><p>He stands up, brushes off any stray dust from his pants. “Goodbye, Akira,” he says, gazing down at him. “I’ll let you rest. You deserve that much.”</p><p>The attic stairs creak as he leaves.</p><p>The stillness and silence envelop the room once more like a gentle cloak. Akira continues to slumber. Were it not for the chair and the footprints on the dusty floor, it would look as if nothing had changed.</p><p>---</p><p>Akechi returns the next day.</p><p>He sits back down with a sigh. “Any good dreams?” he asks. “Today I happened across Takamaki in the street. She smiled, said hello, asked how I was doing, and after I told her, she continued to smile like she hadn’t heard any of it and kept on walking. I doubt she still remembers it. That’s how it goes whenever I meet any of your friends. Maruki brought me back for <i>you,</i> not them.”</p><p>For a while, he stares out the window.</p><p>Eventually, he says, quietly, “When I realized that was what happened to me, I was angry, of course. Then simply miserable. I won’t bore you with the details. But the one thread of hope it brought me was…you had wished for <i>me.</i> Sakura loves her mother dearly, as Okumura loves her father. They wished for someone deeply important to them. And you wished for me. And for a moment, I thought perhaps that meant…”</p><p>He exhales. “Not that it means anything now,” he says. “And perhaps it never did. It was a foolish notion.”</p><p>Akechi looks back down at Akira. “But of course, you <i>are</i> a fool,” he says quietly. “And so it is not so unbelievable.”</p><p>He taps his fingers against his knee. “Do you know, there was a time I put serious consideration into seducing you,” he says lightly. “August, if memory serves. At the time I wasn’t sure what Shido’s ultimate plan would be for the Phantom Thieves, and you seemed like you might be an easy target, soft-hearted as you are. I would’ve played it as a lonely celebrity surrounded by people who only know the <i>surface</i> him, nobody ever seeing the real person beneath, but oh this kind friend truly <i>understands</i> him, could there possibly be something there…” He snorts. “Ridiculous. And in any case I decided it wasn’t worth the risk of potential scandal.”</p><p>He narrows his eyes. “And yes, I can just picture you saying something asinine about the scenario not being completely inaccurate, <i>stop it.”</i></p><p>Akira doesn’t react in any way.</p><p>Akechi sighs. “God, I must be getting even worse if I expect you to respond,” he mutters. “Next I’ll start thinking about fairy tales.</p><p>“My point, though, is that if you <i>did</i> feel that way…” He exhales. “It could never have happened. I would’ve ruined you. You would have torn yourself apart trying to fix me, and either I would have managed to overcome my selfishness enough to leave or I would have let myself consume you. Better to never let any of that happen. You deserve far better than a black hole of a person.”</p><p>After a moment, though, Akechi reaches out. Hesitates, then brushes a lock of hair out of Akira’s eyes.</p><p>“Do you dream of a world where none of that matters?” he whispers. “Does whatever hallucination Maruki saw fit to give you have room for a version of me who would not destroy you?”</p><p>His fingers lower, brush across Akira’s cheek.</p><p>“I dream of it sometimes,” he says quietly.</p><p>He pulls back.</p><p>“I should go,” he says. “Coming here won’t wake you up, and it certainly isn’t making me feel any better.”</p><p>He stands up, goes to the stairs, leaves.</p><p>And comes back the next day.</p><p>And the next. And the next.</p><p>---</p><p>“Did you know I’m in college now, technically? I don’t remember applying, but I am. My advisor seems to think I’m preparing for a degree in criminal justice. Maruki really doesn’t know me at all, does he.”</p><p>Akechi kicks back in the chair, braces his fingers together in front of him. “Today, I was supposed to take an exam,” he says. “When the teacher was passing out the papers for it, she walked past my desk. I had to flag her down to ask for one, and it took a moment before she responded. I don’t think she remembered I was there.”</p><p>He rests his hands on his knee. “That sort of thing’s been happening more often lately,” he says. “On my way here I realized I can’t remember the last time I spoke to someone for more than a few words at a time. Besides you, anyway. But I’m not sure you really count either.”</p><p>Akechi exhales. “I said you were the only one who wished for me,” he says quietly. “And you’re not really here anymore. When only one person in the world wishes for your existence, what does that mean when the person stops wishing? Am I just going to…” He trails off.</p><p>“Well,” he says. “That’d be fair, I suppose. I never should’ve been brought back to begin with, so the universe would just be righting the balance. And it’s not as if I have much to live for.” He chuckles. “Did I ever, really?”</p><p>---</p><p>“This attic gets dreadfully hot in the summer. Should I bring you a different blanket? The one you have now must be uncomfortable.”</p><p>Akechi looks around the room. “Surely you <i>have</i> one,” he mutters. “You’re not <i>that</i> type of idiot.” </p><p>He gets up, searches the room for a few minutes. Eventually finds a lighter blanket tucked away in some boxes.</p><p>“Yes, this is much better,” he says, lifting it to get a better look at it. “I assume you used it last year? And haven’t touched it since, judging by how much dust is on it, ugh.” He shakes the dust out of it, which takes a little while, and brings it back to the bed.</p><p>Akechi pulls back the thick comforter draped over Akira. “See, you’re sweating,” he says. “I don’t know if you can really feel any of this, but it’ll at least settle my peace of mind a little.” He lays the lighter blanket down on top of Akira, pats it down.</p><p>The comforter gets folded and put on a shelf. “Presumably you’ll need this again when winter rolls around,” Akechi says. “I wonder if I’ll still be here by then. Probably not.”</p><p>---</p><p>“Are you looking a little thin? I suppose you always were. Maruki wouldn’t let you starve to death, surely.” Akechi sighs. “Perhaps I’m just looking for reasons to worry about you. It’s not like anyone else will.”</p><p>His fingers dig into the knees of his pants. “God, they abandoned you so <i>quickly,</i> didn’t they,” he says, his voice cold. “None of them even thought to look for you. In the early days, I managed to ask them once or twice, before it slipped from my mind too, and they just looked at me like I was saying nonsense.</p><p>“Yes, I <i>know</i> it’s not really their fault. I can still be angry about it. It’s not like there’s anything else for me to do.”</p><p>---</p><p>“I went to see Shido today.</p><p>“Don’t look at me like that, I know I shouldn’t have. But this morning I was almost hit by a car. I was in perfect sight of them, there was no way they couldn’t have noticed me. And when they got out of the car to see what had happened, they looked around, shrugged, and got back inside. It would seem the situation has progressed to some people not even seeing me. Not everyone, true, but…well. I thought if there was anyone who remembered me, besides you, it would be him.”</p><p>There are heavy dark circles under Akechi’s eyes. The usual makeup is gone.</p><p>“He asked who I was,” Akechi says, very softly. “He thought I was a social worker.”</p><p>For a while, he sits there, silent.</p><p>“After that, I spent an hour or so being very unpleasant to everyone around me,” he says. “It accomplished nothing, besides making me feel worse. I called every contact in my phone, and none of them knew my number. I looked at every website that had ever run an article about me, and none of them had records of my name. If it wasn’t for the people who seem to still notice my presence, it would seem like I never existed.”</p><p>His fingers clench into fists. “That can’t be what Maruki intended,” he says fiercely. “He <i>said</i> he wanted me to be happy, how can this possibly fit that? A lack of fame would be one thing, but there’s a difference between people not remembering I was a celebrity and not remembering me when they’re a neighbor who’s seen me every day for years. Has he given up on me, is that it? Did he decide my refusal of his world meant it was impossible for me to live in it?</p><p>“Or,” he says, looking at Akira with a cold expression, “is it because of you?</p><p>“Have even <i>you</i> forgotten me, in that dream of yours? Does the world in your head not have a place for me after all? Did you decide even a sanitized version of me is too much to handle?</p><p>“I wonder,” he says, casually, “what would happen if I killed you.</p><p>“Would I instantly disappear? Would the life I have now just continue until the world forgets me entirely and I drift through it like a ghost? Of course, what would <i>actually</i> happen is that Maruki would appear out of nowhere before I could even do it and either wipe my mind again or just erase me from existence.”</p><p>He gives a small, tired laugh.</p><p>“Not that it matters, because I could never do that,” he says. “Not even now, when you’re like this. It’s another form of selfishness, I suppose.”</p><p>---</p><p>Akechi is quiet for a long time when he enters the attic.</p><p>Eventually, he says, “When I left my apartment this morning, my hand went through the doorknob.</p><p>“In the streets, people passed through me. After a while I decided to walk in front of a car, and it went through me too. Not everything does; some doors seem to be fine, some furniture. But no one sees me anymore. </p><p>“I haven’t been hungry in days, either. I don’t dream. Even my emotions seem to be dimming. I knew this was coming, I expected I’d be angry, furious at Maruki and the world and everything in my life that led me to this, but…” He exhales. “I just feel tired.”</p><p>He casts a weary eye at Akira’s face. “Did you feel tired, too? Is that why you’re like this? The knowledge of what the world would become weighed down on you so much you couldn’t continue? If so, I suppose I finally understand your decision.”</p><p>Akechi rests his hand on Akira’s cheek, brushes a thumb across his face. “I hope you’re enjoying your dream,” he whispers. “Probably more so if I’m not in it. </p><p>“It’s funny, but…even though I wish you hadn’t wanted me back, I’m happy you did. If that makes any sense. I’m happy that even though you had no reason to, some part of you thought I was worth something. You were wrong, of course, but…” He sighs. “It was nice to be wanted, before the end.”</p><p>He runs his fingers through a lock of Akira’s hair. “I suppose it doesn’t matter if I’m disappearing because you forgot me or because you being asleep made your wish lose value,” he says quietly. “But allow me to be selfish enough to hope it’s the latter.”</p><p>And he stays there for a while, his hand resting on Akira’s face.</p><p>“I wonder how long it will take before I can’t touch you, either,” he whispers.</p><p>He rubs his eyes with his other hand. “God, I’m so fucking tired,” he says. “But I have the feeling the next time I fall asleep, I won’t wake up.</p><p>“That should scare me, I think. But at this point my life is just so much nothingness that it’d hardly make a difference. Even you won’t notice when I’m gone. What does it matter?</p><p>“…you’d probably say that it does matter.”</p><p>He looks down at Akira, his face showing nothing but a resigned exhaustion.</p><p>“But you’re not really here right now,” Akechi says.</p><p>The sun dips lower and lower, until only a few traces of it remain in the perfectly starry sky.</p><p>After a long time, he says, very quietly, “If you’re allowing selfishness, then…well, forgive the intrusion, I suppose.”</p><p>He takes off his shoes, his jacket, his tie. Leaves them neatly on the shelf. Hesitates, then pulls back the blanket enough for him to slip under it.</p><p>There’s not a lot of room. Akechi has to shift Akira onto his side, and even then, it’s a little cramped. Hesitantly, he moves closer, wraps an arm around him. Presses against Akira’s back, presses his face against Akira’s shoulder.</p><p>“Too forward, I know,” he murmurs. “I’m sorry. If it’s any consolation, I’ll probably be gone in the morning.”</p><p>He takes a deep breath. Allows himself a small shudder.</p><p>“Goodnight,” he says, so softly. “If this is how the tragic comedy of my life must conclude, I’m glad you’re here at the end of it. I’m glad the universe extends enough kindness that the last thing I see is you.”</p><p>Akechi closes his eyes.</p><p>“Goodnight,” he repeats. “Akira.”</p><p>The last traces of the sun bleed away into night.</p><p>A perfect, peaceful night, gradually giving way into a perfect sunrise. Sunbeams slink through the attic window, motes of dust drifting in the bright paths. A spider adds another strand to its web.</p><p>The only sound is soft, deep breathing from the bed.</p><p>From just one person.</p><p>Akira Kurusu sleeps alone.</p><p>And sleeps, and sleeps, and there is no one left to disturb the silence. The attic lies still. </p><p>A tomb, of sorts, not just for the inhabitant, but for the last moments of the last person to ever speak to him, the last person who truly cared for him, the last person to remember him for who he was. </p><p>Akira Kurusu sleeps, and sleeps, and if in his dreams the last person is still there--if some version of Goro Akechi is still remembered, still known, still loved, he does not say.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>You can find me at <a href="http://www.futuresoon.tumblr.com">Tumblr</a> and <a href="http://www.twitter.com/futuresoonest">Twitter</a>.</p><p>Check out this amazing art by <a href="https://twitter.com/Cogmin213/status/1306014457127227398">Cogmin</a>!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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